Featured Poems


by on March 30, 2017 :: 0 comments

It was not until she walked
away so purposefully that
I noticed my ruin had
been lounging in her shadow
the whole damned all along,

it flicking through a celebrity
magazine, casual and causal,
taking all the time and all
the time and all the time
in the world.

– Lindsay McLeod

editors note:

Risk for reward makes blind to ruin. – mh clay


by on March 29, 2017 :: 0 comments

The infinite
isn’t a void,
it’s a filling

of that void
that never
ever finishes.

Oh, how
the young
assemblage tries.

editors note:

With so much to fill, gotta start young. – mh clay


by on March 28, 2017 :: 0 comments

We tote excess of existence like dreams
taut with defeat. Truth that erupted was
buried in my briefcase, alcohol was an
enabler. Our style sheet was impaired.
Like statutes it was open to interpretations.
As poets we compounded the causatum.
Ambidextrous lovers are the most loved.
Or the least. Those who seem to please
everyone, please no-one. Their goal is
their goat.

editors note:

And, here; our goat is got. (We welcome Sanjeev to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of his madness on his new page – check it out.) – mh clay

My Child

by on March 27, 2017 :: 0 comments

My child was there before
Now there’s empty space
The air still forever more
Clock hands laying waste

Passersby violate without cause
The space once occupied
Not one of them has even paused
Not one of them has cried

My child was there before
Right in that very place
The world content to ignore
The flooded canyons of my face

– Christopher Minton

editors note:

Such loss, suffered in solitude, should never be. – mh clay


by on March 26, 2017 :: 0 comments

I have one, a snapper, one man named it. I was at the apex of my powers; so I thought. I was an old man’s pass around; he gave me a place to lay my head that weekend, much better than sleeping in an abandoned car. I got paid $20.00 and a new nickname; catfish, make a man’s nature rise like that r&b song extols.

I was hooking; selling ass out of both drawer legs, my momma called it. The narc looked like a drunk trick. My pimp Cornbread and his main piece Caroline were, unbeknownst to me, clipping tricks in the alley. Married men wouldn’t report them. I was finally caught underage at a club; spent the night in a drunk tank, told I was pregs by my cell mate and deposited back to my mom’s. So I could give it away for free to all comers.

I preferred married men; 20s, one child; one thug as a part time lover/jailer; one milquetoast freak as my semi regular man. Momma ran the juke joint next door, had 3 men rooming in the front room of our one bedroom apt duplex.

Married men gave formula and diaper money. One man had a chain of convenience stores; momma pushed me toward him; he was a regular in the joint and he liked them young. I had a snapper, he called it. I kept it lemony, I even used honey. It was sweet and sour; like life. I finally got an awareness of the pain I was causing the women. The saints who were raising their bad ass kids, washing their stank ass drawers. The drawers I was pulling down, my shame and anger was unrighteous. The nerve of me.

My 30s and 40s found me in a so-called sanctified marriage. He knew the score; I was hiding my bi-ness, hiding my same gender love. I ate gay related books and magazines. We had a threesome with my neighbor. She wasn’t into me. If the Lord is just, may he forgive this Jezebel; before I paid dearly with my girl child’s innocence for my moral sin, he was into my and her daughter. He went to jail. My snapper did not save those girls.

My 50s find me heighted. I have been called hot natured. My ob-gyn told me my cunt cramps are because my vaginal walls are so thick they constrict of their own accord. My last partner was jealous of my vibrator. She could not put her whole hand in me; damn baby your snatch is tight, wish I had my dildo with me, I’d wear you out. Or get sore trying. I grabbed the lube. We have honey on our lips, honey stains on the bed. I still do my kegel exercises. I touch my dark pearl and laugh. I got a snapper.

editors note:

A genital history, openly disclosed… Honesty? Honestly!- mh clay


by on March 25, 2017 :: 0 comments

I’ve sure you’ve all heard about it by now–
That Crazy Wrap Thing by It Really Works!
Before you roll your eyes and scroll past this on to pictures of kittens and babies, please just hear me out.

I’m a brand new representative, and,
I gotta tell you, I love working for It Really Works! It’s a great career for me, because I’m a busy mother of three kids, and I get to be my own boss!
But most importantly, it really does work! Just look at the pictures below and see for yourself.

I gotta admit, though, I was skeptical at first, so I tried it myself, and the results are astounding. It’s so easy too!

You by take one of our wraps and affix one end inside the front door, securely.
Make sure the door is shut firmly. Take the other end of the wrap, and wrap it around the outside of your house. Be sure you are working counter-clockwise.
Walk in a complete circle around your house, pulling the cloth firmly so it doesn’t sag. When you reach the front door again, carefully open the door, go inside, and attach the other end of the wrap.
Do not open the door again.

You can see results in less than three weeks.
You can lose up to 200 square feet. (I only lost 150 feet of house, because I’m such a klutz and didn’t wrap tight enough.)

The results will be slow, at first, but dramatic once you take it all in.
The first thing to shrink was that purple abstract I have over my armchair. The lines got smaller. Then the couch got thinner. The unflattering lumps went away.
Other things in the living room, too. Books you’ll never finish became as slim as volumes of poetry. The faces in family portraits became closer and closer together.

Other rooms, too.
My king-sized bed became a twin.
My bathroom lost its extra sink. Whole rooms got tightened, tidied.
My kitchen is now only one foot wide and can barely accommodate my ample hips. Whole cupboards’ worth of dishes got smashed, chairs look like something from a dollhouse, and my spare room shrunk so much that only the cats can go in and out with ease.

I became a giant,
surrounded by objects so small and easily stored.
Everything tidy and still.

Private message me for more details!!!

editors note:

Be the first on our block to disappear. (We welcome Nadia to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her madness on her new page – check it out.) – mh clay

Not your Mama’s DADA

by on March 24, 2017 :: 0 comments

Two people sitting, facing each other.
One vase stands stoically, silently between them.
Bisected at the sides in neon beige and neon black.
One person sees beige; one sees black.
Both are telling alternative truths.
But neither is telling the the vase’s truth, the complete truth.
Either side could have easily had a puppy fetus stapled to it.

Jennifer and Jack both start with the letter J.
Not implying they are intrasexuals or hermaphrodites.
I like desserts and people
Who bleed out sherry, not nonsense.
Unlike vases, Jennifers and Jacks can’t bisect and live.
That you want them to makes no difference
To those you’ve bored with your desires.

Relativity is the only all-absorbing entity.
If it were a river it would be dry and not a river.
If it were a theory, it would be over my head.
And if it were a floor, only tall people would survive.
Four alternative truths,
All based in my perception of truth, not relativity.

It follows this stanza should have five lines.
But I rarely live up to expectations.
The reason there are three is so it’s not a couplet.

editors note:

For those who don’t give a good zip-a-dee-doo-DADA. – mh clay